Under the Influence
by denise1
Summary: After their escape from Seth's compound, Sam and Jack may still have some after-effects - Sam and Jack shippy


Under the Influence

By

Denise

"All Seth's 'disciples' have bought the cover story," Jack reported.

"What about all the…goa'uldish things they saw?" Hammond asked.

Jacob shook his head. "They all seem willing to attribute it to the drugs."

"What drugs?" Jack asked.

"The drugs we told them Seth gave them," Jack said, unapologetically reporting the story they'd told the cult members.

"We got all the goa'uld stuff out of there," Jacob said. "I'm leaving it with you guys, the Tok'ra have plenty of zats. They'll just be happy to hear that Seth has been neutralized." He shot Sam a quick look, frowning a bit at her lack of reaction. They'd just flown back to Cheyenne Mountain, having spent most of the day securing the classified stuff at Seth's compound and debriefing some of the victims. It was now late at night and if it wasn't for the importance of keeping the existence of the goa'uld a secret, Jack knew it was a briefing that Hammond would have postponed until they'd all had time to rest and recuperate.

"Glad we could be of service," Jack quipped, more to break the silence than anything else.

"Well, I should go," Jacob said. "Report in and let the other Tok'ra know that Seth is no longer an issue."

"Whenever you're ready," Hammond said, taking a quick glance around the table, his eyes settling on a quintet of very tired faces. "Your written reports can wait until tomorrow," he said, getting to his feet. Jacob and Jack jumped to their feet, Sam following suit more slowly. He went into his office, leaving them alone.

"You heard the man," Jack said. "Go get some sleep."

"Sam." Jacob grabbed his daughter's arm. "Think you can arrange a flight to San Diego in a week or so?" he asked.

She shot him a surprised look. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Sure, I can arrange that," she nodded, smiling slightly.

He gave her a quick hug. "I'll be back in a few days," he promised.

"I'll walk you downstairs," she said, looking to Jack, then leaving the room.

"Daniel?" Jack asked. "You ok to drive?"

He shook his head. "I'm going to go upstairs and crash."

"I can give you a ride," Jack offered.

Daniel shook his head. "It's fine. I'll catch you in the morning."

He watched Daniel go, his attention drawn to the gateroom as the stargate burst to life. He moved towards the window and watched as Sam walked Jacob up the ramp, giving her father a hug before he walked through the event horizon and it snapped shut.

She made her way down the ramp, her movements slow and faltering. Nothing that he thought that anyone else would pick up on, but it was something that he could see. He remembered the look on her face in the tunnels, the pale, shell shocked visage that still made his blood run cold.

She'd killed Seth with her bare hands, less than that really; she'd murdered him with a thought. She'd shocked him, shocked all of them as soon as they realized what she'd done. Even Selmac had been surprised, quietly relaying to Jack his concern.

Giving into an impulse, Jack turned on his heel, striding down the stairs and then, not seeing her there, left the control room and started down the corridor, jogging a bit to catch up. "Carter?"

She turned, frowning at him. "Sir?"

"Need a ride?" he offered.

She shook her head. "I'm ok, thank you."

He took a look at her wan face and made up his mind. "No, you're not," he said. "You're so tired you can hardly keep your eyes open. I'll give you a ride home."

"That's not necessary, sir," she protested.

"Don't make me make it an order," he threatened.

She shot him a sharp look, then slumped, her body language signaling her acceptance of his plans. They made their way to the surface, with a quick stop by his office and her lab to collect assorted keys and ID's. He headed directly towards his truck, moving to walk between her and her car, forestalling any attempt on her behalf to drive.

Much to his relief, she simply followed him, climbing up in his truck and fastening her seatbelt. He left the SGC, casting a glance at her before pulling out into the traffic of I-25.

Fortunately for both of them, traffic was light, mostly due to the fact that it was nearly midnight. Approaching the exit that lead to her house, he looked over to her, catching a glimpse of her pale face in the harsh sodium lights. She was staring sightlessly out the window, her eyes as unfocussed as they'd been in those dark days after Jolinar.

He thought about her going home to her empty and cold house, alone with nothing but her memories. He couldn't do that. Couldn't abandon her like that.

Making his decision in an instant, he passed up her exit, knowing that he'd done the right thing when she didn't even appear to notice his choice. Fifteen minutes later he parked in front of his house, sighing with relief at the prospect of his bed and sleep being so close.

He turned off the ignition, opening the door and sliding out, frowning as he realized that she was still sitting there.

He made his way around to her door, pulling it open and reaching over to unfasten her seat belt. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her out of the truck, frowning at her surprising level of meekness. He led her into the house, gently pushing her towards the sofa as he snapped on lights.

"Carter?" he asked softly, moving to kneel before her. "You ok?" he asked, frowning at the sight of her huddled on the sofa. Her legs were together, her arms held tightly in her lap. "Sam?" He laid his hand on her leg.

"Cold," she muttered, her voice quivering slightly.

Cursing himself for not recognizing the symptoms of shock, he sat beside her, pulling the afghan off the back of the couch and wrapping it around her. He could feel her shoulders quaking slightly under his hand and he pulled her close. "Body heat, remember?" he said lightly to forestall any protests.

She leaned into him, her head coming to rest on his chest as she tried to get as close to him as possible, seeking the warmth that she craved.  He closed his eyes, shifting his weight and propping his feet up on the coffee table so that she could draw her legs up.

Her arm slid around his waist and her head burrowed into his chest.

He leaned his head against the back of the sofa enjoying the barely remembered sensation of another person next to him. There was something that just felt right about her presence. She was here, she was ok. He'd come so close to losing her today.

He was stupid. He should have remembered that she was just as vulnerable as Jacob and Teal'c. That she was just as unique as they were. Damnit, he knew about the naquadah in her blood, knew that Tok'ra and Goa'uld could sense her. He never should have had her join him and Daniel. She should have stayed with Jacob and Teal'c. "We should get you to bed," he muttered, knowing that she really needed to sleep in a bed, not crashed on the couch.

Her hand snaked into his shirt and he opened his eyes, looking at her as his left hand moved to still hers. "Carter?"

"Mmhm," she moaned, lifting her head.

"What are you doing?"

"Generating some body heat," she said, shifting so her head was equal with his. She lowered her lips to his and kissed him. Despite his best intentions, he kissed her back, his arms tightening around her.

He felt her knee shift across his lap and he opened his eyes, ruthlessly ignoring the lure of his own hormones. He grabbed her arms, pushing her back. "Sam, what the hell's going on?"

"I'm cold," she said, looking him in the eyes.

"I'll go run you a hot bath."

"I don't want a bath," she said, leaning forward. "I want you."

"Sam—"

"Jack, I'm not insane, or under the influence of a virus. I know what I'm doing and right now I want you to make love to me," she said.

"Sam—"

"You can't tell me you don't want to," she said, one hand slipping down to his crotch. He gasped and bucked his hips as the heat from her hand fueled the inferno already burning there.

Despite himself, his arms tightened around her, pulling her close. He opened his mouth, letting her tongue in to mingle with his. He brought up his hand, settling it at her waist. It slipped under her shirt and caressed her bare back.

She moaned softly into his mouth as her fingers applied themselves to his fly, struggling to unbutton it with one hand. "Wait, wait," he said pulling back.

"I don't want to wait," she said, leaning forward.

"Bed," he insisted, pushing her away. She frowned, then nodded, leaning back so that he could get to his feet. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards his bedroom.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack rolled over, frowning in his sleep as his hands encountered a large warm shape. Cracking open one eye, he peered balefully at the figure curled up under the covers.

Despite himself, he grinned as memories of the previous night flooded back into his brain. He'd dreamed of this more than once, that maybe she'd reciprocated her feelings for him, that the day would come when they could spend some time together.

Although spending time was an inadequate way to describe what they'd done last night.

He rolled to his side, idly playing with a stray strand of hair as it lay over her forehead.  
She was sleeping soundly, one hand buried under the pillow and the other laying between them. The quilt was halfway down her back and if he looked closely, he could see the answer to one little thing that had lingered at the back of his mind for a year…one little black mole resting in the small of her back.

Feeling the unmistakable pressure on his bladder demanding his attention, he carefully untangled himself from the sheets, pulling the covers up higher on his bedmate. He pulled his shorts on and padded into the bathroom, quickly taking care of business and taking the opportunity to brush his teeth, before going back into his bedroom.

Catching the time on the clock, he bypassed crawling back into bed and made his way to the kitchen instead, intent upon starting some coffee. Pouring water through the coffeemaker, he started towards the front door, intent upon snagging the paper when the phone rang. He snagged it, glad that he got it on the second ring. "O'Neill."

"Colonel, this is Doctor Fraiser."

"Doc, what the hell are you doing in there at….0700?" Jack asked, taking advantage of the cordless phone to quickly slip outside and get the paper.

"I was called in. Sir, are you feeling ok?" she asked.

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?" Jack frowned, picking up on the tone of her voice.

"Maybe. Colonel, I was called in a couple of hours ago when someone noticed when a certain doctor was acting oddly," she said, editing her words because of the unsecured nature of his phone line. "Preliminary tests have indicated the presence of a foreign substance in his blood."

"What kind of substance?" Jack asked, immediately concerned.

"Well, sir. Apparently he and Doctor Rothman were having a discussion about some findings…and it got rather spirited. I believe Rothman told him to go jump in a lake. The  
SF's stopped him at the entrance. He was trying to go find a lake."

"We don't have any lakes in Colorado Springs," Jack said.

"Yes, sir, I know," she replied.

It's probably nishta. It's a biological compound that inhaled infects all tissue in you body, including your brain. It tends to make your mind extremely pliable

"You think he's suffering from some…aftereffects of the substance we were exposed to yesterday afternoon," he said.

"Yes, sir," Fraiser said. "Which is why I want you and Sam back here as soon as possible. I've been trying to contact her but she's not answering."

"That's because she crashed on my couch," Jack said, improvising the lie.

"Colonel?"

"I gave her a ride home and she forgot her key at the mountain, so rather than going back, she crashed here. I was going to drop her off in an hour or so anyway," he lied.

"Colonel, I can send an airman to come and get you," she offered.

"That won't be necessary," Jack said. "We'll be in within the hour," he promised, hanging up the phone. He set it down on the counter, turning his attention back towards the bedroom. Pliable. That was the word Jacob had used, pliable. Easy to manipulate. Is that what he'd done? Manipulated her? Is that why she'd…they'd…God, he was no better than some punk in a bar slipping a girl a mickey.

"Mmmhm, is that coffee?" He looked up and stared as Sam padded from the bedroom clad in a pair of his shorts and t-shirt. Her hair was still sleep tousled and from the wet glint of her face, he guessed that all she'd done had been to wash her face. She walked past him and snagged a coffee mug, pouring herself a generous cup of the bitter brew. "Anything interesting going on in the world?" She reached past him and grabbed the paper, unfolding it to look at the headlines.

"Aah, no, umm…Sa…Carter, you feeling ok?" he asked, frowning as he studied her intently. She didn't look like she was…whacked or drugged, or high.

"Pretty good, actually," she said, a mischievous smile creeping across her face. "I can certainly say I'm not stressed anymore."

"Ok, umm…we need to go back to the base," he said.

"We're not on duty until noon," she protested.

"We gotta go back now," he insisted. "You can use the guest bedroom to get cleaned up," he said, turning on his heel and stalking from the room, ignoring the hurt look on her face.

Sam watched him go, setting down her cup of coffee. The few sips that she'd drank settled into her gut like she'd swallowed liquid stone. What the hell was going on? Yeah, right Sam, like you can't figure this one out, she chided herself, running her fingers through her hair. It's called regret, Carter. It's called he didn't want to do what he did last night. It's called you seduced your CO like some slut in heat.

Suddenly chilled and slightly sick, she got to her feet, her knees annoyingly weak. She slowly walked down the hall, her stomach lurching at the sight of her clothes, neatly folded outside his closed bedroom door.

She bent over and picked them up, taking a deep breath as she straightened her shoulders. She went into the guest bedroom and quietly closed the door, closing here eyes and denying the tears she could feel prickling behind her eyelids. She'd screwed up enough today, she thought, her lips twisting at the bad pun. She made her decision and she was going to live with it, with whatever consequences there were.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Janet, what's going on?" Sam asked, rolling up her sleeve to allow the woman to draw some blood.

"I just need to run some tests," the doctor said, sliding a needle into Sam's arm.

"What kind of tests?"

"Just tests."

"Janet," Sam demanded, glaring at her friend. "What is going on?"

Janet looked away for a second, then back, quickly and efficiently finishing drawing the blood and using a cotton ball to blot the blood. "How are you feeling?" she asked meaningfully.

Sam shook her head. "Fine. Why?"

"No, after effects from yesterday?"

"No, I…I'm a little tired but…not too bad," she said, cursing the blush she felt creeping up her neck. She wasn't being totally honest. All in all, she did feel good. A little tired, a little sore…in ways she wasn't used to being sore. Physically, she was fine.

Mentally…Mentally was another story. Jack—The colonel had been very quiet during their drive to the mountain, barely talking to her beyond the most basic of small talk.

Once they'd gotten to the mountain, he'd walked in with her and escorted her to the infirmary before disappearing, she presumed to report in to General Hammond.

"You don't feel…odd or anything?"

"No," Sam insisted. "What is going on? Did Seth slip us something or something?" Sam asked, her concern growing.

Janet sighed. "In a manner of speaking. Sam, evidentially, that electrical charge didn't eliminate all the nishta in your systems."

"What?"

"Last night, Doctor Rothman told Daniel to go jump in a lake…and he tried to."

Sam shook her head. "No, it…I felt it. The charge counteracted the nishta."

"Not all of it. Teal'c said that Jacob told him if it hadn't totally permeated the tissues, it would reactivate. Which is what it did with Daniel."

"I remember what it felt like. I don't feel that way," Sam insisted. "Nishta…it makes you feel…almost like an out of body experience." She stopped, rubbing the back of her neck. "It was even a little like Jolinar. I could watch myself do stuff, but it was like it wasn't me. I don't feel that way."

Janet shrugged. "Maybe it was just Daniel. Or maybe the naquadah in your blood made it effect you differently. I don't know." She held up the vial of blood. "I'm going to run some tests on this, and if it shows a foreign substance in your blood, we'll break out the zats and fix it."

"Oh, joy," Sam said, definitely not looking forward to the prospect of getting zatted.

Janet patted her leg. "Like you said, you don't feel anything. Maybe it only effected Daniel," Janet reassured her. "Why don't we wait until the lab results come back. I've isolated what I think is the nishta in Daniel's blood. If your and Colonel O'Neill's samples are clean, then we'll know that you're in the clear." Sam nodded. "You look tired. Why don't you lie down, take a nap. I'll have the results in an hour or so."

"Can I go to my quarters?"

Janet nodded. "That should be ok. Just don't leave the mountain."

Sam slid off the bed and left the infirmary, relying on her familiarity of the base to guide her way. Could it be true? Could they still have the nishta in their systems? She hadn't been lying when she'd told Janet that she hadn't felt that way. She remembered being in the compound, remembered waking up. She remembered feeling all fuzzy headed and almost drunk. She didn't feel that way now. Hadn't felt that way since Teal'c had activated the earpieces.

She walked into her quarters and shut the door, moving to lie down on the bed. Actually, a nap did sound good. She had slept relatively well last night, considering the strange bed and all but…She sat up, a horrible chill chasing down her spine. "Oh god," she muttered.

She didn't have the nishta in her system, she was pretty sure of that…but what if the colonel had? What if she'd seduced him? Literally. Worse than that, forced him.

Dread banishing her fatigue, she stared at the clock on the wall, both urging the hands to move faster and desperately wishing that they'd rewind about twenty-four hours.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack sat in his office, his eyes staring sightlessly down at the computer screen, its blinking cursor mocking him. He needed to write his report. At least that was the excuse he'd given Fraiser as he'd left the infirmary, barely letting her pull the needle from his arm before hopping off the bed.

He didn't want to be around her. Couldn't be. He couldn't stand to look into her sympathetic face, hear the pleasant tone of her voice, knowing that it all would change just as soon as she found out what had happened.

What he'd done to Carter.

God, he was no better than a rapist.

He swallowed convulsively; just thinking the word was enough to make him ill. No, he hadn't physically forced her, that much he remembered clearly. But he still knew that what she'd done last night hand not been done of her own free will. Not if she'd still had the nishta in her system.

He was no better than Seth. He knew that the women in the compound had likely served as his concubines, even had that niggling thought before Daniel had spilled the beans in the tunnel.

That was another reason he shouldn't have let Carter accompany them.

Yes, he knew she faced that risk every single time they stepped through the gate, the whole Mongolian mess had brought that point home loud and clear years ago. But, hell, she faced that same risk every single time she walked out her front door, as did every single woman in the world. It sucked but it was the truth.

But facing the risk was one thing, flying in the face of it another.

He remembered this morning, marveling at the changes few hours could bring. She'd looked so peaceful sleeping in his bed, so content to fall asleep in his arms. It had felt so right to have her soft weight beside him.

When she'd walked into his kitchen, there was no remorse in her eyes, no uncertainty in her voice. She sounded for all the world, like a woman totally at ease and, his ego suggested, satisfied with what she'd done, rather than a victim, someone he'd taken advantage of.

He dreaded seeing her. Which was why he'd simply dropped her off at the infirmary and vanished, only returning for his blood test after Fraiser had called, the threat of SF's escorting him enough to make him leave his refuge.

Coward that he was, he couldn't stand the risk of accidentally being in the same room as her. Couldn't stand actually being there when she remembered. When contentment turned into contempt, satisfaction to fear, hate, pain and remorse.

He didn't want to see her edging away from him, her face pale with betrayal instead of flushed with passion.

He'd hurt her last night, not physically, but in a worse way. He'd abused that one thing he'd demanded from her, the one thing she'd given freely—her trust.

Making his decision, he clicked on the icon, pulling up a fresh document. Once it was open, he began to type, ruthlessly setting down his accounting of events, careful to leave nothing out.

He'd give it to Hammond, he decided. Along with his resignation—right before he turned himself into the authorities.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam paced the small room, her footsteps masking the relentless ticking of the clock on the wall.

Two hours. It'd been two hours and Janet still didn't have an answer. Looking at the phone, Sam fought the temptation to pick it up and call her again. A temptation she quelled upon remembering her last call…the doctor's simple 'Sam, why are you so worried?' question being enough to make Sam do her best to keep from arousing the woman's suspicions any further.

Her mind flashed back to the previous night and she groaned the heavy, sick feeling in her stomach intensifying to the point of nausea. God, she'd practically thrown herself at him. Hell, there was no practically about it. She'd been all over him like some bitch in heat.

He hadn't wanted to, that much she remembered. He hadn't wanted to make love to her, but she'd forced the issue. Pressed her advantage and let his male hormones help her along the way.

She still didn't know why she'd given into the temptation, why she'd ignored her common sense and sense of decorum and tried to seduce him. That hadn't been her intention. All she'd wanted had to get warm, to find something to erase the empty feeling that had settled in her chest ever since Seattle. To lose herself in something that would make her forget the shocked looks on peoples faces. To find a way to banish the hurt she felt when the people in the tunnel edged away from her, cringing against the wall as she'd passed.

She'd killed him. Oh, she'd killed before, more times than she cared to remember, but never this close, never this way. With her thoughts instead of her weapon. Her thoughts were her weapon.

If she could do it once, could she do it again? What if she tried to practice the ribbon device some time and someone made her mad. Would she kill them too? What was to stop her from becoming like the goa'uld? Killing on a whim, murdering without a second thought, taking a human life with all the care she'd give swatting a mosquito.

In his arms, she could forget that, just for a little bit. He knew what she was, he'd seen what she'd done, and still he accepted her. All of them had ignored her on the flight back, clustered on one side of the plane, a nice safe distance away from her, their rejection a near tangible force.

She'd went too far, did too much. They were disgusted with her and she knew it. During the debriefing and the drive to his place, she'd half expected him to suggest that maybe it was time for her to move on. Maybe she'd be more comfortable somewhere else.

She'd been ready for it, had even caught herself mulling over which team she could get assigned to, or wondering if she'd finally gone far enough to be grounded, restricted to the base, not even trusted to be given weapons.

Every time he'd opened his mouth to speak, she'd steeled herself, promising that there'd be no outbursts, no questions, just a quiet acceptance of her fate.

In the end, he hadn't done that. Instead he'd taken her into his home, done his best to comfort her. He'd trusted her, despite all she'd done, despite witnessing her murder someone. He let himself be close to her, touched her, hugged her, showed her in his own wordless way that he still trusted her.

She'd betrayed that trust, took it, used it and stamped all over it.

He regretted what they'd done. She could see that now. It was written all over his face when she'd walked into the kitchen this morning, illustrated in the cautious look he'd given her, punctuated by his monosybillic responses in the truck during the drive.

She knew him well, knew that he only gave the silent treatment to people he truly didn't like.

She needed to leave, she decided. Needed to go, to remove herself before he had to go to Hammond and ask for her to be transferred. If he did that, then it'd all come out, everyone would know what she'd done to him and that wasn't fair. Everyone would know what she'd done to him and she couldn't let that happen. She had to preserve what dignity he had left; it was the least she could do.

She spun on her heel, striding out of the room, barely noticing the airmen that cleared from her path.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jack made his way to the general's office, his steps slowing when he caught sight of the person walking from the other direction. She looked up and stared, her steps slowing. A look of dread crossed her face and he watched her eyes widen. She faltered, her body language suggesting that she was fighting the urge to spin on her heel and run. "Carter," he said, forcing her to acknowledge him.

"Sir."

He glanced in the door, relieved to see that it was empty and that the general was somewhere else. He jerked his thumb towards the empty room. "Got a minute?"

"Umm, actually, sir, I just remembered that I have something to do upstairs and—"

"This will only take a minute," he interrupted.

"Sir—"

"Carter. Inside," he said, his patience wearing thin.

She walked forward, not meeting his eyes as she passed him, stepping into the office. He sighed, closing the door behind them. He couldn't fail but notice that she deliberately kept her distance, moving to stand in the corner beside the door that led to the briefing room.

"As soon as Hammond comes back, I'm handing him this," he said, holding out his resignation. She took it, frowning as she scanned the piece of paper. "I, aah, I'm sorry about what happened last night," he said.

At his words, she looked up, frowning. "What?"

"My behavior was…I shouldn't have." He took a deep breath. "I took advantage of the situation and of you and…I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"How did? No, it was me. I—sir, what are you talking about?"

"The nishta—"

"Yes, sir, I know about the nishta. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me," she interrupted.

"You? What have you—" A knock at the door cut her off and Jack turned, inwardly cringing at the sight of Fraiser and Hammond standing out in the hall. "Sir," he said, opening the door.

"Am I interrupting?" the general asked pointedly, walking past Jack and claiming his chair.

"No, sir. I apologize," Jack said as Janet walked in.

"Actually, it's a good thing that you are here," she said. "It'll save me the trouble of tracking you down."

"Doc?"

"Neither of you have nishta in your systems. The shock from the ear bud must have neutralized it in you, but for some reason, didn't work on Doctor Jackson," she said.

Jack stared at her for a second, not quite sure if he'd heard her right. He and Carter were both fine? But if they were both free of the substance then—

"Was there a reason you were in my office, Colonel?" Hammond asked.

"What? Umm," Jack stuttered.

"I needed to get Colonel O'Neill's signature on a requisition," Sam said, holding up the piece of paper in her hand.

"Well, then—" Hammond held out his hand.

"It's not quite finished yet, sir. My apologies. I forgot to put down a couple of things.  If you would excuse me, sir, I'll go finish filling this out," she said, deliberately folding the piece of paper in half.

"Colonel?"

"Sir?"

"Was there something that you needed?"

"No, sir, thank you," Jack said. "And, with your permission, sir, I've got some paper work to finish."

Hammond looked at both of them, studying them intently for a few seconds.

"Dismissed," he said, waving his hand. "Thank you, doctor." He took Janet's report from her and dismissed her as well. The trio made their way out into the hall, Jack quietly pulling the general's door shut behind him.

Janet looked at them, and then shook her head slightly. "I need to go check on Doctor Jackson," she said. "Sir."

Jack nodded and she turned, quickly disappearing down the hall. "Carter?"

"Not here," she interrupted, tearing the resignation in her hands in half. "1800, my place," she said softly, shoving the torn paper into his hands.

Instinctively, Jack took it, watching as she spun on her heel and strode down the hall, quickly disappearing into the barren gray corridors. He looked down, staring at the paper for a minute before crumbling it up, crushing it into a ball.

All of a sudden, the next seven hours stretched out endlessly before him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Sam walked around her living room, nervously touching and straightening the various knick knacks she had scattered about. She looked to her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes.

She shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have invited him over here. It was stupid. She should have just…just what, she asked herself.

What exactly was the protocol for 'you were good last night and I'm glad we really weren't under an alien influence because I want to do it again'?

She shouldn't have enjoyed it because she shouldn't have done it. Maybe she could catch him on his cell? Cancel, tell him….tell him that something had come up. Maybe even go to the mountain, find something that needs to be done and put him off that way.

Maybe if she was really lucky something might happen. There could be an alien attack or maybe some sort of disease or something. Yeah, if there was some sort of epidemic then she'd be quarantined. And if she was quarantined, then she wouldn't have to see him for a while. Maybe by then, he'd forget all about it.

Her doorbell rang, the sudden sound causing her heart to lurch. "Damnit," she muttered. It was too late, he was here. Maybe she could slip out the back door, go hang out somewhere?

"Carter?" He pounded on the door, his tone concerned and she sighed. The last thing she needed was to get her neighbors involved. She quickly crossed the room, taking a deep breath before she opened the door. "Sir." He'd changed his clothes and was wearing his normal casual attire, a pair of khaki pants, baggy black shirt and leather jacket.

"Carter. Everything ok?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I was down the hall. Come in," she invited, stepping back. He walked in slowly, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jacket as he walked into her living room. "You want something to drink?" she offered, eager for any opportunity to put off the conversation.

"Yeah, got a beer?"

"Sure, be right back." She walked into her kitchen, pulling two bottles out of the refrigerator. She pulled up the hem of her t-shirt, using it to twist off the caps. She turned, stopping short to see him standing in the doorway. "Here," she said lamely, holding out one of the bottles.

He took it, taking a swig before looking at her, shrugging slightly. "So?"

"So." She took a nervous drink, her fingers tapping on the bottle.

"It's 1800," he said after a few minutes.

"Yeah, it is," she agreed, knowing what he was hinting at, but eager for any delay she could get.

"You told me to be here," he prodded.

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?"

He stared at her for a few seconds, and then frowned, deliberately setting his bottle down. "I should go," he said, turning towards the door.

"Colonel—"

"It's no big deal, Carter. See you at work," he tossed casually over his shoulder.

"I don't regret what happened last night," she said quickly, raising her voice to be sure he heard her. He stopped, standing still but not turning around. "I wasn't drugged, I wasn't coerced. I…I don't regret anything," she insisted.

He slowly turned around. "That's not the impression I got this morning."

"The impression YOU got?" she shot back. "I was the one who effectively got handed my clothes with a 'don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out'."

"Sam—"

"No. You're the one that shut me out," she accused.

"Because I thought—" he broke off.

"You thought what."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, I think it does," she said, stepping forward. "What did you think?"

"Fraiser called me this morning. She told me about the nishta."

"There was no nishta."

"Yeah," he said, sighing heavily.

"So, you didn't mind making love to me when you thought it was alien influence but aren't crazy about it being of our own free will," she said, unable to hide the bitterness that crept into her voice. She snorted. "That pretty much puts me in my place. Sorry to have bothered you, sir," she said, stepping past him and opening the door. "It won't happen again."

"Sam—"

"It's late, sir. I'm sure you have better things to do," she said, narrowing her eyes and forcing herself to keep a calm expression on her face. If denial was what he wanted, denial was what he was going to get.

He walked past her and her heart lurched. She forced herself not to look at him, resisting the urge to place her hand on his back and push his ass out the door. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction, she promised herself.

The door was pulled out of her hand and she let it go, the quiet clicking of the latch echoing in her empty foyer. She took a shaky breath and turned, ready to throw the deadlock on the door. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the man standing just inside the closed door. "It's not that late," he said softly, meeting her eyes. He ushered her back into the living room, leading her towards her couch. Urging her to sit, he took a seat in the chair beside the sofa. "I've done a lot of things that…that I'm definitely not proud of. I've aah…" He raised his hands, looking down at them, then rubbing them together. "There's one line I've never crossed. Swore I'd never cross." He looked up at her. "I thought I crossed that line last night," he said softly.

She shook her head. "You didn't."

"I  may as well have."

"Please," she moaned. "If anyone forced anyone…" her voice trailed off.

He looked to her, his eyebrows crawling up his forehead. "What?"

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "Despite how it looked, I don't normally… throw myself at men," she said, a flush creeping up her cheeks.

"You didn't—" he protested, breaking off at her sharp look. "Yeah, ok, so you kinda did but…Look, I'm an adult, not some hormonally driven kid and…You didn't…I didn't…we…" He threw his hands into the air, leaning back in the chair and rubbing his hands over his face. "God, when did this get to be such a mess?"

"When we both got so worried about having hurt the other we didn't realize that that was exactly what we were doing," she said softly, her quiet words making him look up. "My only regret about what happened last night is if it means that we're not friends anymore." He didn't say anything and she left the couch, moving to kneel beside his chair. "Last night was very special, and something I want to do again. But not at the cost of ruining what we already have."

"And what do we have?"

She smiled slightly. "I guess it all depends on what day of the week it is."

He scooted over in the chair, reaching down and pulling her up to sit beside him. "This is what you really want?" he asked.

She nodded, settling into his side. "Yeah."

"If we do this, we're going to do it right," he warned. "I'm in no mood to sneak around or hide. The only way for this to work, is for one of us to transfer for a while, still within the SGC but out of the same chain of command. There might even be an opportunity at the academy. Hammond's been harping at me to work with Kerrigan and start some sort of training program. They've got this idea about grooming recruits. Getting them ready to handle…all the stuff we handle."

"I've heard that rumor," she said. "General Kerrigan's been after me to lecture every once in a while. Usually, I have to decline but…"

"If we're both assigned to Kerrigan, and I'm not your CO anymore…the regs—"

"General Kerrigan's a good man. "As long as we're honest with him, he'll understand. I've seen it before," she said.

"So would Hammond," he said.

"But Kinsey and his goons don't give a damn what happens at the academy," she said, fully aware of just how much the senator would love to discredit the SGC and two of its officers.

"You know, it'll probably delay your next promotion," he said. "The fast track is in combat, not teaching."

She shook her head, sliding one of her arms around his back. "I don't care. Jolinar pretty well took care of that anyway. And it's not going to do wonders for your career either," she reminded.

He snorted, his arms sliding around her and pulling her close. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I get a star. I've made way too many enemies over the  years."

"I've noticed that you have that knack of getting under peoples' skins," she teased.

"I do not," he protested, his voice ripe with mock hurt.

"Do so."

"Do not."

"So."

"Not."

"You do so," she insisted, moving up to kiss him soundly. "It's one of the things I love about you," she whispered after she broke the kiss.

"It is?" She nodded. "Then I'll just have to do it more often won't I," he said as he brought his hands up and pulled her head down, his lips claiming hers as the last rays of sunlight beamed through the window, caressing them with warm, ruby light.

Fin


End file.
